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Send me to the moon – Conchitina Cruz

Send me to the moon – Conchitina Cruz elsewhere held and lingered I have no time for seeming, said the poet to his mistress, in summer heat,             in distress, on his knees, to impress,                                                             say I to you now, my one and one again, beyond question, this moment, my…

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Believe, Believe – Bob Kaufman

Believe in this. Young apple seeds,In blue skies, radiating young breast,Not in blue-suited insects,Infesting society’s garments. Believe in the swinging sounds of jazz,Tearing the night into intricate shreds,Putting it back together again,In cool logical patterns,Not in the sick controllers,Who created only the Bomb. Let the voices of dead poetsRing louder…

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Oedipus’s Eyes

Oedipus gouged his eyes out, and he didn’t know he was wrong. how cursed was he that he could not see the truth, but was it his fault?what more of all of us? (kundera, 1984)

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Unicorn Dreams by Beau Sia

I’ve held you in front of blinking manatees,Tucked moonlightInto secret places for you,And togetherWe’ve seen some of the lamestTeen comediesHollywood has to offer. But you failed to seeThe magic in that. Or rather,Failed to needNurturing simple giftsThe way I did. The past had youLooking around cornersWe hadn’t gotten to yet.…

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Reflections on Rupi

2.06 pm 10/10/17 “Kaur is probably right; I’m pretty sure the reason her first book sells so well is not based on the inherent accessibility of her poetry, but because of its good placement within bookstores, aesthetically simple cover, and the massive Instagram hype around Kaur herself.” – Lindsey Adler…

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Bad Poetry (Oscar Wilde)

‘All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling. To be natural is to be obvious, and to be obvious is to be inartistic.’ – Oscar Wilde

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A word with a wise man in Turkey

“Why didn’t you write poetry during your six month military service in Turkey?” “If your mind is not free, how can you begin to think free thoughts?”

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Attachment and Individuality

“When we were about to move in, I realised that I didn’t feel the least attachment to anything in my apartment. I could have felt a certain joy, something like intoxication, at this freedom; on the contrary, I felt slightly scared. I had managed, it seemed, to live for forty…

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